


Hold Your Breath

by erlenwein



Series: Corsetverse [4]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Corsetry, M/M, Military Uniforms, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 19:04:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13301271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erlenwein/pseuds/erlenwein
Summary: Roy counts to three and pulls — and Ed chokes on his comeback. It’s uncomfortable, the boning far too rigid; Roy’s hand on his waist and Roy’s breath on his skin aren’t helping either.





	Hold Your Breath

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Задержи дыхание](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8423137) by [erlenwein](https://archiveofourown.org/users/erlenwein/pseuds/erlenwein). 



> This is a translation of my own work written back in 2016 for Fandom Kombat; my first Royed written on a dare before I shipped it.  
> Beta-read by Morgrim! Thank you <3

Roy walks in without knocking and stops at the door. Ed glares at him.

“I said I don’t need help. Get out.” He grits his teeth, buttoning up his trousers. Roy doesn’t leave though; he crosses his arms, leaning on the door frame.

“Have you ever worn dress uniform before?” Roy asks when Ed is reaching for his freshly ironed shirt, and Ed shakes his head.

“I said, I’ll manage without your help. My arm doesn’t hurt anymore.”

It’s not entirely true, but Ed doesn’t want to look helpless; he can dress on his own. It’ll take a bit more time, sure, but…

Roy takes the shirt away from him.

“Fuhrer Grumman had said something about full dress uniform, am I right?” He gives Ed a smug smile; Ed nods reluctantly. He hates the idea of wearing uniform, but it was an order; for once in his life Ed had foolishly decided to obey. “Then you forgot something.”

Roy takes the longcoat from the hanger, revealing… oh shit.

Ed shaked his head. “No way. I’m not wearing this. What for?”

“Full dress uniform,” Roy says sing-songy, taking the corset off and undoing the lacing. “It’s obligatory for officers. Since  _ technically _ you’re an equivalent to a major, well…”

Ed is grinding his teeth again; Roy shrugs.

“What? I told you, you’ll need help. You can’t put it on on your own, the lacing will be on your back. At least you won’t be the only one suffering.”

Ed side-eyes him; Roy is wearing his dress shirt already. Does it mean… Roy catches his stare and nods; he undoes his top buttons and shows Ed the edge of his own corset.

“You can scream if you feel like it,” Roy gives the corset to Ed, and Ed puts it on unwillingly.

“Didn’t hear you screaming,” he grumbles, turning it so the lacing is in its place. Roy turns him around, warm hands on Ed’s shoulders, so Ed is facing the drawer and the mirror on the wall; his reflection is far too flushed already.

“I did the first time,” Roy shrugs again, his gaze intent; he bends over, and Ed feels Roy’s stare on his skin. “Do you intend to pass out in public?”

“What?! No!”

“Then we shall be merciful on your ribs,” Roy chuckles and looks at Ed through the mirror; Ed has to close his eyes. The house is full of officers of all ranks, why was Roy the one… ah, fuck it. “Hold on now,” — Roy says, suddenly focused, — “and try not to breathe.”

Roy counts to three and pulls — and Ed chokes on his comeback. It’s uncomfortable, the boning far too rigid; Roy’s hand on his waist and Roy’s breath on his skin aren’t helping either. Ed tries to stay silent, unwilling to embarrass himself, but when Roy starts to pull harder, tightening the corset, Ed barely suppresses a groan. He’s clutching the edge of the drawer, his knuckles white; were he still to have his automail, he’d crumple the wood with his fingers.

Finally Roy stops, and Ed straightens his back.

“Can you breathe?” Roy puts his hand on Ed’s waist, and Ed jerks away.

“Ye-yeah,” he winces. “Ugh. Is it supposed to be so tight?”

“Yes,” Roy ties the laces quickly and gives Ed his shirt; Ed puts it on.

But the moment he touches the buttons, his shoulder starts to ache again, and Ed touches it, trying to calm the pain. Roy isn’t leaving, still watching Ed; he seems amused. But he gets bored while Ed is fumbling with the buttons, and in two quick steps Roy is suddenly in front of him, buttoning up his shirt. Ed asks him about work; not because he genuinely wants to know, but because he wants to break the tense silence, — and Roy starts talking.

“...flooded by paperwork, they need to check who’s dead, who’s wounded, who’s arrested, and to fill in the positions, and the archives were mostly destroyed, so you can imagine the mess, and General Armstrong is livid, because she’s the one in charge, and you know what’s the best of it all?” He pats Ed’s shoulders, and Ed blinks, as if awoken.

“What?” he asks, and Roy smiles brilliantly.

“I am not involved in all this. There’s an epic amount of paperwork to be done, and I am forbidden to hold a pen.” He shows his palms to Ed. The pink scars look barely healed, and Ed winces again; he doesn’t want Roy to be in pain, but there’s nothing he can do about it.

He steps from foot to foot; only now Ed realizes he ought to put his shoes on first, and now he can’t bend. Roy chatters; Havoc is better, Hawkeye is better, she might even go to the ceremony today; he’s standing too close, and Ed steps back, to the bed. Then he sits down, moves his shoes closer with his foot. Roy notices his manoeuvre and chuckles.

“You’re walking trouble,” he remarks and sits down on the floor: how, Ed cannot grasp; perhaps it was a part of special academy training. Roy holds the shoes for Ed to put his feet in, and then he ties his laces, his fingers flying; Ed stares at him without listening to a word Roy says. 

“I want to quit,” Ed says suddenly, falling out of his trance. “How do I do that now?”

Roy lifts his head, watching Ed from the floor; Ed forgets how to breathe for a second.

“You don’t. There’s a state of emergency, no soldier can quit unless they’re being prosecuted for joining the conspiracy.” He stands up. “So you can enjoy your termless sick leave.”

“And for how long is that state of emergency?” Ed stands up too and puts the longcoat on.

“How would I know? A year, or two, or five, or it can be perpetual if Grumman feels like it. Our laws don’t put a time limit on it, or any condition on when it should be terminated. It might be as long as Amestris is at war with somebody. Or until they sort out the mess in Central HQ. Or the regime changes… you still owe me money, by the way.” Roy pins insignia on Ed’s shoulders. “Put the watch in that pocket. Should I help you with your hair?”

“As if you know what to do with long hair,” Ed mumbles, and Roy laughs.

“I do know, in fact.” He crosses his arms, and Ed shoves him away.

“No. I can do it. Or I’ll ask Al. Get out. General Armstrong will chew your head off if you’re late.”

Roy lifts his hands, showing defeat, and leaves — finally. Ed sighs — tries to, at least, — and undoes his hair. He can do that on his own.

 

***

 

The ceremony feels endless; they get awarded for the deeds that are all classified; the fuhrer says not one, but several speeches. Everything is overly pompous, and Ed ignores all that is happening around him. Al is excited though; he’s sitting right next to Ed, wearing civvies — finally something to replace the hospital gown, — and he’s holding Ed’s hand, and  _ that _ is what matters.

Roy is even more smug than usual; he’s being awarded, and so is his squad; and he’s getting promoted as soon as the mess is sorted out. Hawkeye is soon to be released from the hospital — she was allowed to come here today, and Ed tries to guess if she had to wear a corset as well.

A day without an end; Ed glances at Roy from time to time. Roy is talking to the press — the fuhrer announced that Ishval will be restored, and now every newspaper and every radio station wants to know what does the Hero of Ishval think about it.

The Hero of Ishval isn’t excited about their interrogations, that’s for sure; but when Ed accidentally meets his eyes, Roy smiles and — and winks, and Ed is holding his breath for a bit too long. Hawkeye is standing next to him; she asks, worried, if Ed is okay and if she can help him somehow.

No, he is not okay; no, there’s no way she can help. Ed says nothing of this out loud.

 

***

 

It’s a torture; but it ends. Ed is back in his room, throwing his cap on the bed, taking his longcoat off, tearing off the shirt. He tries to reach the corset strings, but they’re placed exactly where he can’t reach them; Ed kicks the chair and reluctantly puts his shirt back on. He walks out of the room and stops for a second, trying to determine where to go; he was in Roy’s room once since they moved in here, and finding it… Ed doesn’t fully understand why Grumman insisted on moving them all in here, but there’s a lot of spare rooms still — he wondered how did they fit a tank in here before, and now he can see they could fit a dozen more.

He wanders around but eventually finds the door he was looking for; he walks in without knocking. Roy puts the book down and looks at Ed curiously.

“I need to take this off,” Ed sighs — tries to, at least. Roy chuckles; he’s still wearing the corset himself, and Ed avoids looking at him; he doesn’t need to think about it.

“Come here.” Roy stands up and takes Ed’s shirt off; a quick step, and he starts to untangle the lacing. Ed looks at him through the mirror; if Roy notices it, he doesn’t say a word.

“At least I found your room. Why do you live here, by the way? I thought you had a flat in Central, didn’t you?”

“Fuhrer’s orders. He prefers to keep us all together. But I suspect he secretly hopes me and General Armstrong will murder each other.” Roy pulls the strings out of their holes, and Ed shudders under his touch.

“Really? Doesn’t seem like him. He likes you.”

Roy rolls his eyes. “Me and General Armstrong are lovers, and for her it’s much more convenient to keep me here. I thought you were past the age of idiotic questions.”

Ed turns around swiftly. “Wait, what?! You and… No way!”

Roy drops the strings and laughs. “Of course not! She prefers blonds, everybody knows that. So be careful.. And keep an eye on Al. And hold still, or I’ll never finish.”

Ed elbows him with his left arm, but hits the corset; Roy laughs and puts his hands on Ed’s shoulders to keep him in place. When the top and middle sections are done, he has to kneel — Ed can feel the movement of air. He tries not to think of it, not to imagine Roy’s face right now; at least he has enough disgusting memories to turn to.

Roy is finally done; Ed can take the corset off and take a deep breath. He puts his shirt on, but doesn’t button it just yet. Why does Amestrian military hate itself so much to make these things obligatory?..

“Can you help me now?” Roy asks, and when Ed nods Roy turns around on his heels. Ed gasps and gapes: the lacing on Ed’s back left at least an inch between the edges of corset, but Roy’s corset is impossibly tight, leaving no visible skin. How is he able to move — to breathe in this?

Ed rolls up his sleeves and unties the knot slowly; he tries not to stare at Roy’s pale shoulders. Roy isn’t moving, frozen in one position, and Ed won’t dare to look in the mirror to see his face. His skin is hot — almost burning, — a bit wet with sweat; Ed suppresses a shiver. He inhales, finally able to, and starts to loosen the strings, one by one; he wants to speed up to end this torture and leave, but he can’t bring himself to.

“If you can’t do it, get a pair of scissors or a knife,” Roy says quietly, turning his head, and Ed winces. He can do it — he must. But he does speed it up a little, not pulling the strings out completely, just loosening them enough for Roy to take the corset off; when it’s done, Roy tears the corset off and throws it on his bed. Ed can’t help himself — he puts his hand on Roy’s back where the lacing was imprinted on his skin.

“Who did that?” he asks, and Roy stretches, shaking Ed’s hand off.

“Miles, led by General herself. That’s done according to the regulations, by the way.”

“So you were indeed merciful,” Ed chuckles. Roy goes back to his chair — he sits down and closes his eyes.

“There was not a single parade at the academy without somebody fainting. So I didn’t want to embarrass you. It seemed like it was bad enough. Perhaps we would be better if you skipped the corset part entirely,” he exhales slowly, and it sounds dangerously close to a moan; Ed’s cheeks are burning.

“And all officers do that?” Ed asks, looking away.

Roy hums. “Generals are allowed to skip it. But most of them do it anyway, habits and all.” Roy bends and takes his boots off, kicking them away; Ed stares at him again.

There’s more silence — not as tense as Ed thought it would be. Roy is breathing steadily, his chest going up and down, and Ed looks at his waist — defined muscles, an ugly scar; he wants to reach out and trace its edges with his fingers, but can’t really risk it.

“So what it feels like, to be a national hero? And you’re only sixteen,” Roy opens one eye, and Ed straightens his back, adjusts his shirt.

“Not a fan. Way too much fuss. But it all entertains Al, so I’m fine with it.”

Roy laughs quietly, slouching lower in his chair. “I remember myself at your age. I had just started learning alchemy… The only thing I managed to do by that age was quitting smoking. Not much, but Havoc can’t even do that, so…”

“You’re  _ ancient _ ,” Ed snorts. “You should be in a museum. Ruins of Xerxes and next to them ruins of Roy Mustang.”

Roy elbows him. “Shut up, kiddo.” He sticks out his tongue, the jerk. “Although you’re less of a kid now. Growing up, it seems. Did you get taller?”

“But you’ll always see me as a kid, won’t you?” Ed frowns. He wants Roy to see him as an adult; he doesn’t quite understand why, but he desperately wants for Roy to see Ed as his equal.

Roy shrugs. “Who knows. I remember you when we just met, and you’ve come a long way since then. Almost an adult now. Not quite yet, but close enough. We’ll see about it, I guess... Me and general Armstrong have similar age gap, and she only recently admitted I can be right about things sometimes. It leaves a lot to be desired, of course, but it still counts as progress. And I think you’re much more mature now than I was at sixteen, so…”

Ed bites his cheek. Roy undoes his braid and tugs Ed’s hair lightly, making him bend over.

“In two or three years  you ’ll be stealing my girlfriends. And Havoc’s, too.” Roy is staring at him now, and Ed wants to turn away, to hide from his stare; he doesn’t want to think what that stare might mean.

Instead of giving into his desires he throws Roy’s hand away; Roy scoffs and straightens.

“It’s time to get ready for dinner. Go to your room and change,” he orders, and Ed stands up, picks up his corset, and leaves. When this all is over, he’ll quit — they’ll return to Risembool for Al to recover, and then they’ll continue their research; it’s a perfect plan. It doesn’t include Roy though; it’s possible Ed’ll call him from time to time, perhaps he’ll even visit — to repay the debt and borrow some money again; it’s also possible they won’t meet again.

But Ed’s stuck here for a while; and in that while he’ll have to put on dress uniform again.

And as for plans… they tend to change, you know?

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, an AU where everything is the same but Amestrian military wears corsets as part of their dress uniform.


End file.
